


Sentinel

by PocketAnon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Brotp, Gen, Inspired by Once Upon a Time (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV) Spoilers, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8246690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketAnon/pseuds/PocketAnon
Summary: A Captain Book one-shot inspired by spoilers for 6.03.  Just a little headcanon.





	

The occasional loose board on the dock creaks beneath his feet as Killian makes his way toward his ship, fist buried in his jacket pocket. It’s late in the evening, nearly midnight, and he’s used to this jaunt between Emma’s house and the Jolly Roger, but this evening is different and he’s slightly on edge, his step a touch faster than normal. Scattered harbor lights illuminate his path in the darkness, and a cool summer breeze ruffles his hair as it blows across the harbor. Buoys clang intermittently as they rise and fall leisurely on the waves, their sound the only other ambient noise, the seagulls having long retired to their nests. 

He reaches the old girl and scales the gangplank with a few long strides. Springing aboard deck, he spins around and surveys the docks with an eagle eye, scanning for any sign of a shadowy figure who might have tailed him, though he knows that the individual he’s most concerned about is more than able to avoid detection. Still, it makes him feel a little better when he sees nothing out of the ordinary, and he turns on his heel and heads aft toward the hatch which leads to his quarters. He crouches, knocking softly on the wood, and pauses a moment before lifting it back and descending, pulling it shut behind him.

Unlike most nights, his quarters are already lit when he enters, a couple of electric camping lanterns scattered around where their old kerosene counterparts used to be. While the light these give off is a little less inviting than the comforting flicker of firelight, the modern day equivalent struck him as a practical choice, both to save on the cost of oil and to eliminate the fire hazard.

“Belle?” he asks softly as he climbs down the steep ladder from the hatch.

She’s there, sitting at his desk with one of the lamps next to her, a dog-eared library copy of _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ in her hand, and she looks up with a smile. “Hi.”

“Everything alright?” His feet hit the floor.

She marks her place with a bookmark and stands, clutching the paperback in her hands. She’s changed out of her dress, now sporting a two-piece button-up pajama set in a floral print. “Um, yeah. Fine.” She gestures toward the heavy black cloth hanging over the bank of windows that normally look out on the water. “I covered the windows as you asked, so no one would see the light.”

He nods. “Good. I hope you don’t mind. It seemed a sensible precaution in order to hide your presence here.”

“Yeah.” She looks a little sad. “If it’s okay, I was hoping to turn in soon.”

Killian gives her an understanding smile. “Of course.” He gestures toward his bunk. “It may not be the most comfortable bed you’ve ever slept in, but I daresay it’s better than Granny’s,” he says ruefully. “Do you need anything? An extra blanket?”

Her mouth quirks upward, and she shakes her head hurriedly. “No, no, I think I’ll be alright.” Her brow wrinkles. “Um, if I take your bed, where will you sleep?”

He moves about, gathering up his sleep clothes, toiletries, and tomorrow’s attire out of various cabinets and tucking them beneath his arm. “I can take the crew quarters,” he tells her. “First mate’s cabin is right down the corridor.”

She hugs her arms to her body and nods, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “Okay.”

He clears his throat and reaches for the door knob, lifting an extra lantern off the wall with his hook. “I’ll take my leave then. Call if you need anything.”

“Killian?”

He pauses, angling his torso back to look at her.

Belle gives him a small, grateful smile. “I know I said it earlier, but thank you.” The corners of her blue eyes crinkle. “What you’re doing… It’s really nice.”

He bows his head. What he’s doing isn’t nearly enough to make up for what he’s done to her in the past, but he’s willing to acknowledge it’s a start, and his eyes grow a bit wet at the bleak hope he has that one day he might actually feel redeemed. “You’re welcome.” Managing a weak grin over his shoulder, he exits.

The first mate’s cabin is smaller, but at least it also includes a small berth with a mattress, rather than the hammocks that hang in the other crew quarters. Moonlight filters in through a grated hatch above him, and he hangs his lantern by the door. He eyes the sturdy bar where he once caught Emma doing chin-ups on their way to Neverland, and his lips curl in a fond smile at the memory.

So much has changed between them since then – far more than he could ever have known in his wildest dreams to wish for. He sighs as he shucks his jacket and begins to prepare for bed, draping his clothes neatly over a small crate. True love or not, things with Emma are hardly perfect at the moment. To say he’s worried about her is an understatement. He could hardly call himself her partner if he hadn’t noticed that something was bothering her. Badly. The terrified look he’s noted more than once in her eyes, the slack-jawed expression she gets before she collects herself enough to make excuses for her level of distraction, the way she’d inexplicably hesitated to take out Hyde when they’d captured him, the way she’d tried to ply the villain for information when he’d accused her of having tremors as they hauled him off to prison. Killian is not an idiot. He’d seen and heard it all. The fact that Emma thinks she can hide any of it from anyone, much less him, is ludicrous and intensely frustrating, but he knows her, knows she has her reasons, and given that it’s Emma, they most likely have to do with protecting them from something she deems dire. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. Whatever the perceived danger is, she’s trying to handle it herself again, just as she did when she – when they both – were Dark Ones. _Bloody stubborn woman._ He clenches his jaw as he pulls himself up into the berth. He remembers how inclined he was as a Dark One to keep secrets, to plot and scheme and execute his plan under everyone’s nose. Emma clearly had the same impulse during her tenure, and she was one to keep her cards close to her chest even _before_ that. Not for the first time, he reflects on the fact that he most certainly has his work cut out for him, and he heaves another sigh.

He’s in bed less than ten minutes when a blood-curdling scream rips through the air.

Killian curses and rolls out of the bunk as quickly as he can, his blood turning to ice in his veins. _The Crocodile? Who else could it be?_ He snatches his hook and brace from where he’d hung them on the small wall lamp next to the bed and tugs it on, simultaneously working to secure it while he yanks open the cabin door and barrels into the corridor, barely remembering to grab his lantern on the way. “Belle?!” he bellows.

Her cries continue to ring out as he bursts into the captain’s quarters, lantern blazing brightly and held aloft. His chest heaves as his eyes scan for the Dark One, but to his confusion, there is no one else here, save for Belle who is curled up on her side in his bed, her legs thrashing. Killian does another once-over of the room to ensure that there is, in fact, no threat, and he bounds forward to the bedside. He falters awkwardly a moment before he reaches forward and places a firm hand on Belle’s shoulder and gives her a gentle shake. “Belle!”

It takes several tries, but she suddenly comes to, gasping sharply as her eyes spring open, her expression filled with terror as she startles and stares up at him, panicked. Her initial disorientation at being awakened by him in an unusual place only feeds her confusion and fright, and he takes a step back as she pushes herself up to a sit and buries her face in her hands.

He allows her several long moments to gather herself before he asks, “Are you alright?”

Belle sniffles and swipes tears away from her eyes, her breathing still ragged. “I… I… think so.” She brings her knees up toward her and leans forward. “I’m sorry. It must have been a nightmare.” She shudders, shoulders hunched. “It was just… so real.”

Killian frowns. “Does it have to do with the sleeping curse?”

Her arms clutched near her chest, she balls her hands up into fists and rests her forehead on them. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve read about things like this happening,” she mumbles. She finishes regaining her composure and looks back up at him guiltily. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

He shakes his head, relieved that it doesn’t appear to be anything more serious. “It’s fine, love. Is there anything I can do?”

“Would…” Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth. “Could you stay close by for a bit?”

He thinks quickly. “Would you feel better if I slept in here? I can get a cot.”

Her expression softens, turning a little hopeful. “You’d do that?”

He smiles. “Of course.” He pulls the dark coverings off the windows to allow in a little light, the cabin suddenly becoming far less foreboding.

Belle looks back down at her hands before allowing herself a small nod. 

It settled, he heads off to retrieve a cot from the crew quarters, and twenty minutes later, she’s settled back in bed and he’s stretching out on the taut swath of worn canvas he’s set up along the far wall. He tries not to grunt too loudly as he shifts his weight, seeking a comfortable position on this rickety old thing that’s only marginally more comfortable than a bedroll on the floor. “Alright, then?” he asks.

He can make out her form as she curls back over apprehensively. “I think so.” Her voice is none too confident.

“Get some rest,” he says gently, hoping he sounds encouraging. 

She clears her throat. “I’ll… I’ll try.” She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Goodnight, Killian. And thank you.”

He’s not sure exactly how long it is, as it’s possible he drifts in and out of sleep, but it doesn’t seem like more than fifteen minutes or so before the sound of coarse snoring draws his attention back to the berth, and he arches an eyebrow. He has to admit that it never occurred to him that Belle would snore, as dainty and petite as she is, but now that he thinks of it, he recalls David mentioning offhand that being pregnant had turned Snow into a rather loud sleeper. He sighs. _Lovely._ At least he can be assured that she’s resting, he supposes. For now. 

_Bloody Crocodile._ He knows it was Belle’s decision to put herself under the sleeping curse, but her husband is still to blame for her current state of affairs as far as Killian is concerned. He furrows his brow. _Secrets and lies._ To hear Belle tell it, that’s all their marriage has been, really. He grits his teeth as he shifts further over on to his side, his back to her, as if that will somehow make him less apt to hear her snoring. He trusts that his relationship with Emma would never devolve into something so wretched, but his resolve strengthens nonetheless: He’s given her adequate time to tell him what’s bothering her. Tomorrow he’s going to confront her. His job is to protect her, whether she wants him to or not, and damned if he isn’t going to do everything he can to keep her safe, even from her own demons. She may be stubborn, but he’s Killian Jones, once the most single-minded pirate to sail the seven seas, and he plans on giving her a run for her money.


End file.
